The One Fic Where America has 1 Kid|Countryhumans AU

1

The time reads 8:15 a.m. Not that China sees it anyway.

He loops his tie and fastens the knot over his neck with the speed of a man who's done it on a daily basis. He paws his hand across the desk, only to be met by the smooth surface of the glass cover. China bends down and peers underneath the table. In the darkness, the golden glint of his tie pin catches his eye. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he crouches down to pick it up.

He didn't have to put on the small, star-shaped pin, but he's rather fond of it.

Picking up his briefcase from the floor, China pockets his phone and MetroCard and skids out of his room. He slips on his loafers before yanking the door open. He runs to the elevator, pressing the "down" button just as it nears his floor. The metal doors slide open, and his own reflection in the mirror greets him back. With that, he straightens his tie and tucks a strand of hair back.

Good enough.

A soft chime rings above. As if on cue, China steps out. He strides out onto the concrete pavement and down the usual route to the subway. A soft breeze grazes his cheek.

Yesterday's meeting was called to order at 3 p.m. and lasted into the early hours of the evening. The situation in the Middle East, including Palestine, was next on the agenda. As the other members of the Security Council reiterated their unanimous support during moments of crisis, China merely propped his cheek on his hand.

It didn't matter how good the proposed resolution was. Unless the concerned member state accepts it, it would be nothing more than obsolete.

Meanwhile, America was absent again. The broad, tousled-haired man was nowhere to be seen. Instead, another representative took his place.

He snaps his attention back to the present when the train screeches to a halt. China utters a "sorry" as he squeezes past a passenger standing by the exit, who scowls back in response. He climbs out of the station, rounds a corner, and lets out a moment's exhale of relief when the Secretariat building comes into view. The morning sunlight glints on the blue windows, and China's stomach grumbles softly.

Come to think of it, America's been absent lately. That wasn't to say it deterred anything, but it was hard not to notice when a permanent member of the Council and the first most powerful country in the world becomes quiet all of a sudden. For one, he's barely at work compared to usual, coming in late in the mornings before leaving early in the afternoon, and there were times America simply went missing entirely. The intervals were irregular—ranging for days, with no specific period as to when it would happen more often—but what piqued his suspicion was how he'd rarely give any prior notice.

He slaps his ID over the sensor of the metal gate, nodding "good morning" to a passing intern.

Sometimes, he'd just disappear for weeks; this is one of them.

The elevator clatters softly as it reaches his designated floor. China swallows the last bits of the bread roll he snatched from the cafeteria before tossing the paper wrap into the bin. He enters his office, chirping good morning to his co-workers as he places his briefcase on the desk and boots up his computer. A record of the meeting should be uploaded to the archive by now, but he doubts that.

A soft knock catches his attention.

"Excuse me, is Mr. Hua here?" Comes the familiar voice of a young lady who sounds reminiscent of a shaking cat.

China moves his chair back as he makes his way towards Japan. Her bright red clip stands out like an identifying mark—a stark contrast to her dark hair or her dusty rose suit. China's attention then shifts down to the sheets of paper stapled together in her small hands. A quick scan of the title page tells him it's the English version of the meeting records.